


Comittment

by WinterTheWriter



Series: The Oncoming Slut [4]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Bathtub Sex, Budding Relationship, Cunnilingus, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Romance, Smut, Top!Thirteen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21568399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterTheWriter/pseuds/WinterTheWriter
Summary: It's one simple question. Yaz just...needs to know. She asks the Doctor a very important question, gets the wrong answer, but they work their way in the right direction.
Relationships: The Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Series: The Oncoming Slut [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1263446
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78





	Comittment

**Author's Note:**

> i fully understand and accept that i am the worst but at least i came back
> 
> that tux tho

“Are we in a relationship?” Yaz suddenly asks, even though her and the Doctor are currently very naked, very wet, and cuddling side-by-side in a very private (and spacious) bathtub. 

The Doctor looks up from where she was definitely /not/ trying to give herself a bubble goatee, frowning. “That’s a sudden question. Why the sudden question, Yaz?” 

With a fond roll of her eyes and a small smile, Yaz turns more fully to the Doctor and smears away one of the lingering goatee-bubbles. She hopes she sounds as light-hearted and blasé as she wants. “I’m just…wonderin’, I suppose. We’ve gotten fairly close recently, if ya hadn’t noticed, an’ we’ve had a couple talks, but not about…this. Us. Specifically.” 

“And…is now the time you’d like us to have that talk?” the Doctor carefully intones, pointedly looking at the the tub. She sits up just a little, still taking care to leave her hip and side pressed along the soft warmth of Yaz’s front. How such a simple thing can ground her so easily nowadays is beyond her. 

“Yes. Here and now, Doctor.” Admittedly, Yaz is hoping this is the point where the Doctor sweeps her into her arms and kisses her, loudly proclaiming that all she wants is a relationship with Yaz, a future for them together. 

Unfortunately, this is not exactly what happens. 

The Doctor smears her arm across her own face to clear the bubbles, suddenly avoiding Yaz’s eyes. With her gaze fixed on the soapy water, she pushes herself up into a hunched sitting position, heedless of the cold porcelain she is now forced against on her other side. She clears her throat awkwardly and looks at the bathroom door, subconscious. 

The bath is suddenly colder. 

“You’d better not be starting that ‘I’m selfish for sleeping with you’ shite again,” Yaz jokes, but the shakiness of her voice makes it land flat. As does the Doctor’s complete lack of response. She’s doing that thousand-year stare again. “Doctor.” Nothing. “/Doctor/.”

“You are going to die centuries before I do, and there is nothing I can do to change that,” she suddenly responds. The words are cold and toneless, and the Doctor still won’t /look/ at her. Yaz can’t tell if it’s rage or despair building up inside of herself at that. “If we are in a relationship, Yaz, that means I am to watch you grow old and die. I’ve tried before, and the ending is never happy.” 

“Look at me.” At her words, finally the Doctor turns. Her eyes are red and her shoulders hunched and she just looks so /sad/ that the very sight of her leeches all the rage-despair from Yaz’s heart, replacing it with the molasses-slow warmth she’s growing way too used to around her Doctor. “There you are,” she praises softly, forcing herself to smile as she strokes the back of her hand over the Doctor’s cheek. Even that small movement the Doctor leans into it. “I’m not…Doctor, I get that you’re old an’ all, but you’re looking /way/ too big picture, here.” 

The Doctor frowns. “What do you mean?” 

“I /mean/ that all I asked was if we were in a relationship or not, /not/ if you wanted to commit to me for the rest of my life. This is early days, Doctor. Very early days. We might be together forever or we might not, but that is /definitely/ not a concern I have at this very moment! Nor should it be for you.”

“I can’t /not/ think big picture, Yaz. Like you said, I’m old. Very old! /Too/ old, honestly, but never mind that. Your lifespan is a blip on the average Time Lord’s radar - over in a /second/ to us. But it still hurts. It /always/ still hurts.” With a pause, the Doctor nervously licks her lips and averts her eyes again, gaze going dark and stormy. “I am so bloody tired of hurt.” 

“…Doctor. Yes or no, do you want a relationship with me?”

“Yaz, I—,”

“/Yes/ or /no/.”

“…Yes,” the Doctor whispers. She grabs Yaz’s soapy hand and presses her lips to it, reverently. Lovingly. “Yes, I do. But like I said—,”

“/No/ buts.” It’s awfully hard to sound stern with her very soul melting at the Doctor’s affection, but this is important enough Yaz tries anyways. “Doctor, if I’m a blip, then I’m a blip. We will worry about that when we need to. If I am a blip, I’m just glad I got to give you another slice of happiness in that long life of yours.” The Doctor looks ready to burst at that so Yaz plows quickly on. “In the meantime, though, just…just /be/ with me, yeah? Let’s just be together and figure each other out and, I dunno, go to museums or something!” 

“Hate museums,” the Doctor laughs, watery. “Always get the dates wrong.”

“I’d love for you to show me that sometimes.” And then they’re staring into each other’s eyes like the cheesiest movie everyone pretends not to love, and the Doctor still looks hesitant but Yaz can see her resolve crumbling, her beautiful, beautiful hope blooming once more in those eyes, right up until the moment they shut so the Doctor can lean forward and kiss her. 

“Yes,” she whispers, hot and humid against Yaz’s lips. “Yes, Yaz, we are in a relationship.” 

Yaz surges up at the words, arms looping around the Doctor’s neck to tug her impossibly closer in the tub. They kiss again and again and again, smiling stupid against each other’s lips, until the hope turns to happiness turns to hunger. 

And boy, is it hunger. 

Unlike their previous…dalliances, the hunger this time is slow, deep, and intimate in a way it couldn’t be before. The Doctor presses Yaz back against tub and straddles her, hips grinding down as she licks into her mouth like she would lick up a drug, desperate to savor but also to taste every drop. Yaz moans under her at the feeling, allowing the Doctor to take over all her senses as she smooths her hands up the Doctor’s warm thighs to cup the cheeks of her arse, squeezing and spreading them slowly until she gets a moan right back. 

Suddenly, the bath is much, much warmer. 

They don’t waste time on foreplay. 

The Doctor slides backwards in the tub until she can kneel between Yaz’s legs, and with a dark, way-too-sexy smile she grabs under the backs of her thighs and lifts up. Yaz yelps in surprise at the rare show of strength, adjusting her own arms to support her upper half since she’s now diagonal to the tub. She won’t protest; she’s game for anything when the Doctor looks like that. Pressing a feather-light kiss to Yaz’s inner thigh is the only stop the Doctor makes along the way to her cunt. With a low, rapturous moan like /she/’s the one about to get the life sucked out of her happy hole (Yaz apologizes to herself for even thinking that phrase), the Doctor starts a slow, torturous lick from the pooling, hot wetness at her entrance to the throbbing hardness of her clit. She cycles this way at a turtle’s pace, supporting Yaz’s lower half with Yaz’s thighs on her shoulders and the Doctor’s arms under her arse and back.

With a cry, Yaz tosses her head back at the feeling, narrowly avoiding a concussion against the tub. The thought makes her giggle a little, which makes the Doctor smile against her adorably before sucking her clit into her mouth and sucking again, deep enough to tug up skin. It feels exquisite, intense beyond belief as Yaz gives into the urge to grind dirty and needy against the Doctor’s tongue. The Doctor flattens it against the side her clit to give her a flat surface to grind against, staring up her body and into her eyes as she does. God, it’s /filthy/. The sight of that alone is something out of a porno and it just makes Yaz whine with desire and bite her own lip, wishing she had the leverage to just touch the Doctor /back/.

Smirking knowingly, the Doctor goes back to the slow drag of her tongue along the length of Yaz’s cunt, pausing to dip into her entrance and practically /whimper/ at the taste, fuck. She slides her hands up to Yaz’s breasts, still supporting her by the thighs alone, cupping them and rolling her nipples between her fingers. “Oh, /fuck/,” Yaz whispers out harshly, squeezing her eyes shut tight at the dual sensations. She arches her back into the touch and moans out loudly when the Doctor fucks her tongue into her once more. She’s being licked open nice and proper, all slow, wet heat against her most sensitive parts, heightened only by the faint rasp of friction all tongues have. 

The Doctor seems perfectly at ease. She’s aroused - Yaz peeks open an eye to see her flushed skin, her shining eyes, the way she squeezes her own thighs together - but comfortable, taking Yaz apart brain cell by brain cell with that ridiculous mouth of hers. “Doctor,” Yaz whimpers, desperate to get her to speed up, fuck her /properly/, but the Doctor only hums in response. 

The assault of pleasure continues for so long she loses track of time. Yaz’s moans are high-pitched, now, soaked in desperation and loud with it as she twitches her hips as much as she’s able to. The Doctor knows every button to press, now, and she does it perfectly. Electricity tingles up and down Yaz’s spine, through her thighs, traveling in time with the the throbbing in her cunt. Pressure building, and Yaz twists a little in the tub, water sloshing around and getting in her face but she doesn’t care, /can’t/ care, not when she’s this far gone. Chanting the Doctor’s name under her breath, she encourages speed simply by wriggling so much the Doctor has to compensate, but /oh/ it works a charm. 

With a final, devastating suck to her clit, Yaz shouts out in wordless pleasure as she shakes in the Doctor’s grip, hips bucking wildly as static rushes through her veins and sets her on fire at the same time. 

She comes down with heaving breaths as the Doctor gently lowers her back into the water, the now-coolness of it a relief against her overheated skin. Part of her wants to return the favor but she’s knackered from the intensity, the intimacy of it all. The Doctor doesn’t mention it. Instead, she kisses back up Yaz’s body until she reaches her lips and shares the taste of her, humming into the contact when Yaz eagerly responds to it as much as she’s able. 

Pulling back, the Doctor presses their foreheads together and smiles gleefully. “Now that, my Yaz…/that/ I could do for many years to come.”


End file.
